


Mass Effect: Afterlife

by Oltaidh



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Control Ending, Destroy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Ideal Ending, Marriage Proposal, Post-Crucible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oltaidh/pseuds/Oltaidh
Summary: Following the Battle of Earth that should have ended their lives, the crew of the Normandy must learn to live in a changed Galaxy. Relationships heat up and everyone has to work together to make things work, as Shepard and Garrus hold one another's hand as they walk into this new chapter of their lives.
Relationships: EDI/Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Javik/Liara T'Soni
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	1. Recovery

Shepard finally woke, and her gun arm was numb. As her eyelids weakly flickered, the dim lights of the infirmary entirely too bright, she tried to lift her arm. It was bone-thin from atrophy, and wrapped tightly in medicated bandages. One of her eyes was covered by something. Another bandage?

“Commander?”

Shepard’s gaze flicked over to the hazy shape that eventually revealed itself as Dr. Chakwas. Chakwas had her omni-tool open, and was speaking rapidly into it, “Miss Lawson, you are needed-”

Shepard’s hearing faded to a ring of tinnitus, and she closed her eyes again. She didn’t want Chakwas, or Miranda. Not right now. Speaking was a painful, burning effort, but the question was important.

“Where…. Is… _Garrus_?”

  
_One week later..._

“You had us all scared” Garrus was saying, “We thought you were dead.”  
“To be fair” Shepard mumbled, squeezing his hand, “that wouldn’t have been the first time”

Garrus chuckled, the two-tone thrum of his voice warm despite the worry in it. He’d been trying to hide his concern in the week since she’d first woken up, but it wasn’t convincing in the slightest. At least her throat wasn’t as sore as it had been. This was the first day she’d been able to speak full sentences.

Her voice was a little huskier, though. She wondered, on the rare occasions Garrus left her side, if the slight vibrato was comforting or attractive to him. If it was, he probably felt guilty about it.

“Yeah,” he said, “that’s actually why we had Miranda in, since she-”  
Her hand weakly reached up to put a finger to his mouth, shushing him, “I know, babe, I figured.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No don’t apologise I just-”

“I know.”

She smiled gently as his talon traced a line down her cheek. She looked up at him, studied how his mandibles flexed and relaxed as he tried to hide his expression, how his gaze lingered on her bandaged arm. His face scar had been joined by a broken gash in his collar and more wounds up his left side, but everything serious had been treated while she’d been in a coma.

“How long was I out, again?”

“About six weeks.”

“Could be worse. Is everyone else okay?”

Garrus nodded solemnly, “For the most part, yeah. Tali was pretty rough, but the doctors say she’ll be okay. They’re keeping her under for the time being.”

“I thought she’d be here.”

“No, a geth ship linked up and took her off our hands. Turns out, right after what you did on Rannoch, they put a surgical unit into production. Self-sterilizing, something to do with mass effect fields, I wasn’t really listening. But Geth ships are taking a lot of the overflow from the Flotilla these days, it’s nice.”

Shepard internally decided that any diplomatic incidents that came up were not her problem. “Have we heard from Palaven?”

Garrus shook his head, “No, nothing yet. The mass relays are still out of operation.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“The engineers will. We’re done fixing the galaxy’s problems for a while, I think.”

Shepard smiled, and rolled over to put her other hand on Garrus’ knee.

“I love you.” She said

“Love you too.” He replied.

  
_Two weeks later..._

“Ow,” Shepard said, “Ow. Ow. Fuck.”

“Stop being a baby, Shepard.” Miranda said, absentmindedly typing notes into her datapad, “You broke one knee. With what you went through, your legs should be spaghetti, you’re fine.”

“Somehow that’s not reassuring, Miranda.”

Shepard took another step, hands clutching the bars on either side of her path. Miranda was teasing to keep her spirits up, but they both knew the knee wasn’t the real problem, that was fixed already. Her legs simply hadn’t been used in nine weeks.

The door to the infirmary opened, and Joker and EDI walked in. Joker was walking his usual careful, soft-footed way, and they were each holding a cup of coffee.

“Hah,” Joker said, “Now you know how it feels.”

“Jeff,” EDI gently chided.

“What? I’ve worked with super-commandos and friggin’ Commander Shepard for _years_ , I’m gonna enjoy being more able-bodied than one of them.”

Shepard laughed, but it was cut off by a wince as pain shot through her bad knee. “I could still kick your ass, Joker.”

“Biotics is cheating.”

“Agh.”

EDI walked over and offered Miranda the coffee in her hand. Miranda smiled her thanks, and took a sip, before saying “Honestly, the Commander’s progressing well, all things considered.”

“Good,” Shepard muttered, taking another step, “I gotta be strong for when Garrus gets back.”

Joker’s eyebrows knitted, “Wait, why?”

There was a heavy silence as the women in the room looked at him.

“Joker,” Miranda began eventually, “Come on, EDI got that.”

Joker just looked questioningly at EDI, who hesitated.

“There is an 87% chance that the Commander is referring to having unusually vigorous intercourse with Mr Vakari-”

“Okay!” Joker said, “Okay, I’m stupid for missing that. We’ve been grounded for two months, my brain’s completely fried.”

“Clearly. EDI, how long do I have?”

“Garrus’s public schedule lists him as in talks with the Alliance and then the Quarian Flotilla for the next four days.”

“Alright,” Shepard said, “plenty of time”

Her next step was stronger.

  
  


_Two days later..._

Shepard was finally well enough to sleep in her own room again. The bandages around her right arm had been removed, revealing a strangely patterned burn along the skin. The tingle would fade, she was assured, and while her fingers wouldn’t have quite the same dexterity ever again, her strength was gradually returning.

She was still exhausted, though. She missed Garrus. Missed the hard lines and subtle warmth of his body beside her in bed, but he was away on important business.

They had won, but it wasn’t without cost. A few million lives had been lost in the Battle of Earth, and many more from injuries in the weeks since, and amongst them had been everyone in the Sol system higher than Garrus in the Hierarchy. When the call had come in two weeks ago, he had insisted he wasn’t ready to be Primarch, but with the mass relay wrecked, there wasn’t anyone else available. Shepard had kissed him, calmed him before he went. Primarch Vakarian, nervous and hesitant, had hugged her tight and she had felt the fear inside him.

She’d asked, of course, if there was any title for her as his partner

“Well,” he said, nervous talons tracing a circle gently on Shepard’s thigh, “If you were part of the Hierarchy, you’d be a Primarch, but, it’s not the same word. Humans can’t do it, you have to subvocalize differently. Primarch, _Primarch_ , you hear it?”

The background thrum of his voice had dropped to a lower pitch on the second one, and she nodded. Garrus had tilted his head, hesitant, before adding:

“We’d have to be married, obviously.”

Shepard had smiled sleepily as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’d like that.”

But now it had been over a week since he’d had to leave, travelling around Earth to have meetings with various representatives of the other races. He’d called her a few times, sweet blissful hours where he didn’t have to talk about work any more, but he was always preoccupied, asking about news from the Normandy. Once she’d gotten her omni-tool back and Chakwas had left the room for some errand or another, she’d sent him a picture of her with her top lifted and a few choice suggestions for what they could do when he returned.

A few minutes later she got a reply: _I accidentally opened that in front of Wrex. He saw. I’m sorry._

She blushed so deep red that Chakwas got worried she was in pain, and they shared a laugh and a drink to Garrus’ health when Shepard admitted what happened.

Shepard did get some visitors, and Samantha had command on who was allowed up to the room, but their company was fleeting. Liara had come in leaning on a walking stick, a rudimentary prosthetic replacing the leg she had lost in an explosion during the final charge. They’d talked about plans for the future, about Garrus. About Liara and Javik and the feelings they were pretending not to have. It was sweet to pretend like their work was done, for a while, but it had to end. Liara gave Shepard a kiss on the cheek, “for old time’s sake” and made her leave to organise scientists and engineers to work on the relay repair.

Another day, Javik himself came in, out of his armour for the first time she’d ever seen. He had borrowed a shirt from James and it didn’t fit right, but it was nice to see him. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, and all he did was thank her, and take her hand. She had vividly understood his gratitude, the sheer weight of it, and they simply cried together in solidarity, and hugged for some time.

Her memories of the Crucible were blurred. She remembered the blue light, the strange contraption seeking to absorb her whole self. Control the Reapers and save the Galaxy. It seemed so simple, and that was a lie. So instead, as she felt her consciousness split into the mind of the millions of Reapers throughout the Galaxy, her one command was clear: _destroy one another._

Red beams had lit the skies of Thessia, Palaven, Earth and thousands of other worlds as the Reapers tore one another apart, utterly without resistance. Any without someone to fight simply dived into the nearest sun. Shepard felt them all start to die as the blue corruption of the Crucible tore at her component atoms. She was ready to die to end it.

But she wanted to see Garrus again, and so through the eyes of the entity known as Harbinger, she fired on the Citadel before she could be completely distributed, and as the process failed, only her right arm and a patch of skin around her eye were left permanently damaged.

And they’d found her amongst the rubble, an undeserved miracle.

But her life, as she had known it, had ended, and now she needed to find out what came after.


	2. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Shepard awaits his return, Garrus has his own side of the aftermath to think through

_ The day before... _

Garrus Vakarian really wanted kids.

He’d only mentioned it to Shepard once, before the final assault. Something about retiring after it was all over. Spirits, that felt like decades ago now. So much had changed, and they’d actually  _ won _ .

Garrus tried to keep his fatalistic streak quiet, but he figured he probably gave the game away when he talked about the bar in heaven. He really hadn’t expected to survive that day. A future with Shepard was a blissful fantasy, an impossible goal that kept him moving forward, but part of him had never really expected it to be possible.

Now he was afraid the kid thing had come across as meaningless banter.

“Primarch Vakarian, are you listening?”

He really needed to stop doing that. He looked up to the two people in the meeting room. Turians, humans and geth, all sitting in chairs made for Quarians on the Tonbay, with Admiral Shala’Raan at the head of the table. It was her that had spoken.

“Yes, Admiral, of course.” He half-lied, rewinding the conversation in his head to catch what she’d asked. The food distribution.

“Yes,” he said again, “With our remaining supplies, the Geth relief ships should be able to support our troops for some time, at least until more permanent supplies can be arranged.”

“And as for farming?” Shala asked, turning her gaze to the turian admiral on Garrus’ left.

“We can clear the cargo holds on our remaining dreadnoughts and use them as liveships, if it comes to that stage.”

“In return,” Garrus said, “we can put some of our smaller ships in stable orbit and we’ll get as many of the Engineering Corps helping on the Rayya as we can.”

The human scientist looked up from her omni-tool on Garrus’ other side, and it closed with a little beep, “Admirals, Primarch, I’ve just gotten confirmation about Central Park in New York. The Reaper conversion camp is almost completely disassembled, we could definitely use that land to farm dextro-protein food.”

The Geth beeped for attention, and everyone turned towards it, “Several of our units maintain agricultural function, as was our original purpose. The Consensus offers its assistance.”

“Sounds perfect.” the human said.

Garrus was just thankful they’d sent the scientist for this one. Diplomats, especially asari and human ones, had a habit of getting wrapped up in the kind of procedure that could make this kind of meeting go on for days. At least everyone could think of a food crisis with the same urgency. Organising housing on Earth and Mars had been a stressful negotiation, and he couldn’t even blame the Alliance there. Earth was in a delicate state with limited resources, and more tenants were only going to add to that stress. At least Wrex had been there. They could grab a drink after the talks, laugh about how Reapers weren’t so tough after all and repeat stories of the fight against Saren for anyone who would listen. That let out some of the tension that everyone was feeling.

Nobody had considered the relays being damaged when they’d planned all this. The relays were such a fundamental aspect of their history that the idea of one being unavailable seemed almost absurd. Hammer, Sword, and Shield, a day or two’s battle at most, and then either they were all going to be dead or they could all go home.

Nobody had planned for being stranded in the Sol system for months. Earth’s resources were strained, and the Quarian Flotilla had a whole second species to feed now. They were working it out, piece by piece, but nobody had been ready for this.

He felt bad that he  _ wasn’t _ panicking about it. Some part of him had long since made peace with the idea he might never see his sister or dad again.

But as long as Shepard was with him, he’d be okay.

Spirits, he missed her.

“Acting-Primarch Vakarian.”

It was the Geth who had called for his attention this time. He needed to stop doing that.

  
_The next day..._

Tali’s face made Garrus uncomfortable. The front of her head was supposed to be smooth glass, a flickering light and a metal frame, not soft skin and curling lips. The resolution on the screen was surprisingly clear, and the strange lines that led from her eyes to her scalp had a neat flow to them. He’d never known that quarians had forked tongues. She was attractive - Garrus internally shamed himself for thinking so - but it didn’t seem like Tali.

“Hey, Bosh’tet.” She said, smiling sleepily. It was strange to see her smile rather than hear it. “Long time no see.”

“Hah, yeah,” Garrus said, his mandibles twitching uncomfortably. He averted his gaze. “You seem naked without the mask, I feel like some kind of pervert.”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s so  _ yellow _ . I’ll have it back on whenever I see you, but they have me in a clean room.” She yawned, “It’s funny, a year or two ago I wanted you to see me like this. Now it just seems weird.”

“How come?”

Her blush was a dark purple, and she averted her gaze, “I might have had a huge crush on you. Back when we were helping with the Collectors.”

“Oh, um-”

“Sorry,” she said hastily, “I didn’t mean to be awkward. It’s in the past.”

There was an awkward pause while they both searched for a subject change.

“Waking up with all the Geth around today must’ve been weird.” Garrus commented.

“Oh, you have no idea. But it wasn’t too bad. The surgical unit has a voice really close to Legion’s, so, you know. Kinda comforting.”

“And how are you feeling about their work?”

“Garrus, I lost an arm and this thing,” she held up the Geth bio-mechanical prosthetic, “doesn’t feel any different. It’s weird. What’s that human thing James told us about? Some valley or something?”

“Uncanny Valley?” Garrus offered.

“Yeah, that. I’ve got that for my own arm. But it’s cool I guess. I haven’t had any problems.”

“Glad to hear.”

“But hey, tell me about the Normandy, how is everyone? I heard we didn’t lose anyone, was anyone as bad as me? Is Shepard okay?”

Garrus leaned back in his chair. The room that he’d been provided on the Tonbay was small but surprisingly comfortable. You could tell that Quarians had just normalized to the smell of disinfectant, though. He took Tali’s questions in order.

“Everyone’s fine, mostly in pretty good spirits really. Javik’s as stoic as ever, EDI and Joker celebrated too much after the battle and broke Joker’s pelvis, James is visiting his family, everyone’s fine. Shepard woke up before you but she was out for a couple of weeks, and Liara lost a leg, but she obviously didn’t have to deal with as bad an infection as you. And yeah, Shepard’s good, she’s earned some rest.”

“Is she there?”

“Oh, no, I’m on the Tonbay negotiating food supplies for the fleet. Shepard’s back on the Normandy. I tried to call her before I heard you were awake, but EDI told me she’s asleep.”

“Oh,” Tali’s eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up. It was strange how humanoid her face was. “Why is that your job?”

_ Shit. _ Garrus closed his eyes. “Oh, um, I’m acting Primarch.”

“You’re what? Garrus that’s amazing, how- I mean, Primarch Vakarian, it’s an honour, sir!” Her new arm snapped to a mocking but solid salute.

“Please don’t” Garrus said, his mandibles rising in embarrassment, “And it’s  _ acting _ Primarch, just until the relay gets repaired.”

“But still, you’re  _ the Primarch _ !”

“There’s more than one-”

“Garrus, you bosh’tet, stop trying to downplay this. It’s cool.”

Garrus just smiled and leaned back, scratching absentmindedly at his new scars along his side.

“It’s good to have you back, Tali.”

  
  


_Two days later..._

Stepping back onto the Normandy felt more like coming home than any other place Garrus had lived. Apartments he’d occupied on the Citadel had been places to rest, a pause in his real life, his work. Before that, returning to the family house for holidays during boot camp had felt more like a vacation than coming home. 

On Omega, he’d had to move around so often that he never became connected to a particular place, but even so, that was probably the closest he got to this feeling. This sense of belonging.

His footsteps echoed on the brushed-steel floor of the cargo bay. One of the Kodiak shuttles had its door open and the voice of Cortez’ favourite singer was echoing from the speakers within.

The elevator doors opened before Garrus reached them, and Garrus’ breath caught in his throat.

Shepard stood there, one hand in the pocket of that hoodie she’d bought on their citadel date. Her beautiful eyes widened as a smile formed on her lips. When, Garrus wondered, had the concept of lips stopped being weird to him and become so alluring?

Shepard’s hair was growing out from her war shave, and it bounced gently as she yelled his name and ran up to him. She only stumbled at the last second, and Garrus caught her in an embrace before she fell. Their faces were inches from one another. They both grinned, unsure what to say.

“I missed you.” Garrus said, and they kissed. Her soft lips pressed against his bony mouth, and they pressed themselves tightly together. Shepard’s hands wrapped around Garrus’ head as their tongues hungrily explored each others’ mouths.

Shepard’s hands started tugging eagerly at the fastenings of Garrus’ tunic as she pushed him up against the console, impatient. Garrus returned in kind, pulling at the hem of the hoodie. They separated as Shepard pulled the hoodie off, lean arms flexing as she revealed a form-hugging tank top. She smiled in that excited way he’d only seen in her bedroom before and pushed him back against the console. He ripped the final fastenings of his tunic in a rush to remove it, and quickly started unzipping his undersuit, the loosening fabric a welcome relief.

Shepard grabbed her tank top at the bottom and lifted it tightly against her, emphasising her breasts just before she revealed them. As the line of fabric began to crest her bust, her eyes flickered upward, above and past Garrus, and widened.

She threw herself to the floor and against the console in a move honed by years of diving for cover from gunfire, her face practically glowing in a blush.

“Hi, Commander.” Cortez called awkwardly.

Garrus’ head snapped around towards the pilot’s voice. He was standing in the doorway of the open Kodiak, a pained and apologetic smile on his face.

“Good to see you back, Garrus.” he added.

Garrus felt his insides shrivel with embarrassment and just let himself slide down to a sitting position, in cover, beside Shepard. He sighed loudly.

“I’m never going to live this down. Spirits, James is going to know inside an hour.”

Shepard just nodded. Most of her face was red now.

“Commander?” Cortez called.

She winced, but called back, “Yeah?”  
“I really don’t want to make this more awkward, but I need to use that console.”

Garrus would have been okay dying by Reaper if it meant avoiding this moment. Shepard nodded to herself again, before calling, “I’m sorry you had to see that, Lieutenant.”

Cortez laughed, “It’s not a problem, Commander.”

Shepard stood, keeping herself faced away from Cortez. She stepped over and picked up her hoodie. Garrus refastened his undersuit, but he couldn’t see where he’d thrown his tunic. At Shepard’s gesture, he stood as well, before they both turned.

Before they could say anything, they were briefly blinded by a flash.

Cortez had the camera of his omni-tool open, and was trying to suppress his grin. It broke the tension a bit, though Garrus could feel his mandibles rising in shame. There was a hidden laugh in Shepard’s voice as she warned the Lieutenant.

“I swear, Steve, if that hits the extranet-”

“Strictly for embarrassing you in front of the crew, Commander,” Cortez grinned, “You have my word.”

Shepard snapped a sharp Alliance salute, which Cortez returned. Shepard motioned towards the elevator, but Garrus hesitated a moment.

“Cortez, how much would it cost me to stop you telling J-”

“I’ve already messaged him.”

“Oh.”

“And Tali.”

On cue, Garrus got a notification beep on his omni-tool. He sighed.

Shepard grabbed Garrus’ collarbone and brought his ear, kissing him gently on the neck.

“Primarch,” she whispered teasingly. Her voice sent a pleasant tingle through Garrus’ body, “You have a very important appointment in the captain’s cabin.”

Garrus relaxed, smiled, muted his omni-tool, and shot Cortez a casual salute as Shepard grabbed his hand and guided him back to the elevator.


	3. Reunion

_Two hours later..._  
  
“So,” Garrus muttered, breath heavy with exhaustion, “That… was amazing.”

“Uh-huh.” Shepard replied. Her whole body was still tingling with pleasure. The bedsheets were strewn and wrinkled around her, and they were both lying in their cooling sweat. They were both panting in the afterglow, barely speaking. Shepard wiped warm, sticky fluid from around her mouth. It tasted strangely like iron, but it was a taste that had become strangely arousing to her over the past year.

“I still think,” Garrus said, turning on his side to look at her as she grinned, “We should be more careful about that.”

Shepard wiped her hand on the bedsheets, smirking at how concerned he could be, even now.

“It’s fine as long as I don’t _ingest_ it, Garrus.”

“I’m just, y’know, I’m paranoid.”

“I know.”

She turned over, draping a leg over his waist as she did, moving close together once again. She kissed him, slowly, sensually, gently biting his tongue. Talons gently grabbed her ass and pulled her in closer to his body, his hard carapace pressing on the softness of her flesh. They had both released their tension - several times - but they still wanted to be close, together at last.

“I love you, Garrus.”

“I love you too.”

After another half hour’s cuddling and kissing, and Garrus telling her about his weeks away, they decided they should probably leave the room at some point, so they got up to shower. Shepard couldn’t stop her hands from wandering, and soon Garrus had her pressed against the shower wall, breathlessly professing his name.

So the shower took a little longer than they’d intended, but after an hour they both dried off and got dressed into their casual clothes. Well, turians never really got fully casual, but Garrus’ undersuit was a bit less tight-fitting and his tunic was wide-sleeved. He still wore the visor, of course.

It was late in the evening when they got down to the crew deck and sat at the table, Garrus getting a warm greeting from everyone present. They sat down, holding hands below the table, while Joker, EDI and Garrus started half-jokingly complaining about being stranded in Sol. Joker didn’t mind where he flew, he just wanted to fly. EDI said she was concerned Jeff would get out of practice. Garrus seemed a bit less into it, but he didn’t want to be Primarch any longer than he had to be.

Meanwhile, Chakwas fussed over Shepard’s scars like a doting mother.

“Really, Doctor, I’m fine, you did a great job.”

“I don’t like how your implants are flaring since the battle, Shepard, are you sure you don’t want me to modify them?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Shepard rubbed her cheek self-consciously and glanced at Garrus, “I don’t mind the scars, and they’re not gonna hurt me, right?”

Chakwas made a noise at the back of her throat that sounded like she was done trying to convince Shepard. She turned back to the table and swished her brandy thoughtfully. Shepard looked across the table to Samantha, who was trying to teach Javik how to play chess on a rudimentary holographic set.

“Why is the knight - a warrior, yes? - represented by this creature?” He asked, pointing to the little stylized horse head.

“Knights used to ride on them.”

Javik hesitated, blinked, and scrunched his mouth in that way he did when he was stopping himself being dismissive of the new cycle’s cultures.

“That sounds inefficient.” He said eventually.

Samantha laughed, “Maybe, but anyway, back to the game-”

Liara emerged from her room behind them, datapad in hand, seemingly distracted before she saw them, and walked over. Javik tried not to look at her as she took the chair on his other side. Shepard glanced around the table, to see everyone looking at the odd couple. She caught Garrus’ eye and he smirked, left mandible twitching downwards. Shepard kissed him on the cheek. Liara made eye contact with Shepard for a moment, before leaning on her elbows and watching Javik learn. When they started playing practice games, Liara whispered advice in his ear and he smiled at her voice. It was cute, and Samantha didn’t call them on the obvious cheating.

It was a nice evening. Shepard wished everyone could be there, but so many others were busy. It was a shame, really, that Anderson’s old apartment had been lost with the Citadel. They’d all have to organise and meet up, after everything was back in some semblance of normal.

Then again, the normal for the last few years had been fighting for their lives. Maybe they needed something else.

Her reminiscing was broken when she heard the elevator doors opening, and glanced back. Steve Cortez walked around the corner, face locked in the twitching, stoic mask of a man trying not to laugh before he reached the punchline of a joke.

He was wearing Garrus’ abandoned tunic.

It fit him terribly.

“Oh, spirits.” Garrus muttered as Cortez took one of the chairs from the smaller table and brought it over to sit on EDI’s right.

“Commander. Primarch.” he said in greeting.

Joker turned, started saying “Hey” before noticing the tunic. Everyone at the table except Javik gradually turned to look at him. After a few moments’ curious silence, Javik turned to see what the fuss was about. Liara caught Shepard’s eye and smirked, eyebrows raised, like she was impressed. Shepard felt the blush returning to her face. Cortez turned on his omni-tool, and opened the photo gallery.

“So,” he began, “You’ll never guess what I found while I was doing maintenance today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this one is so much shorter than usual, irl complications and some last-minute rewrites make for a poor mixture, and a good chunk of the planned chapter 3 had to be moved to a later chapter because it didn't really fit here and blah blah
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read and/or left kudos and comments, this is my first published fic, so it's really nice to get a reaction like this. I'll do my best to get Chapter 4 and onwards out to you as soon as possible, I hope you all enjoy!


	4. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara considers her own position in the aftermath

_ Two weeks later _

Liara hadn’t had a good sleep in months. Even before that, she’d only had one good night, and that on Shepard’s orders, before they retook Earth. Really, it had been over a year since she had actually relaxed. She had taken tiny breaks, stolen minutes, a very occasional hour, but nothing that ever really let her rest.

She’d hoped that maybe after the Reapers were defeated, she’d find time. But of course not. Her stay in the infirmary while her body burned out the inevitable infection from her missing leg wasn’t exactly relaxing, and as soon as she’d been even half-able she had taken back to work.

She knew it was at least partly her own doing, of course. She had volunteered to get back to work. Shepard, Garrus and a dozen others had told her she was a workaholic more times than she cared to remember. In a strange sort of way, it was her comfort zone, even when it ran her ragged. Her mind was constantly active, picking apart any available problem, trying to solve it. She didn’t like saying that to anyone. It felt like she was bragging about her intellect. She  _ was _ intelligent, and she had no illusions in that regard, but she didn’t want to look like she was pretentious about it. The accent threw enough people off as it was, no need to add to that.

The aftermath of the Battle of Earth provided no shortage of problems to think about. It was nice to feel useful, but by the second week she could feel the exhaustion draining her. The skin on her head was dry, the texture of her cranial ridges subtly changed, and they were almost imperceptibly paler. The change would be obvious to another asari, like the dark bags humans got under their eyes when they were tired, but with no other asari onboard, there was nobody to call her out on working herself too hard. Liara had noticed Shepard giving her a worried glance on occasion. She would be able to tell. When they’d been together, back on the first  _ Normandy _ , she learned to tell when Liara wasn’t at her best, but she probably couldn’t put her finger on what gave it away anymore. Liara figured she was about three days off from a confrontation about it.

_ Focus. _

She’d been doing that a lot. Losing herself in thinking about the crew, about Shepard, and Javik. _Goddess_ , Javik was as complicated as the rest of it combined. He was so frustrating, so closed off, and that didn’t help her own doubts and hesitations.

_ Focus. _

Liara took a deep breath, flexing her fingers, eyes closed. After a moment, she opened them again and looked at the screen, at the seven different conversations she was dancing between.

With Aria T’Loak staying out of the Sol System, her mercenary forces - Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack - had been directionless. Even if they were inclined to cause trouble, they all knew that they wouldn’t win anything by going back to how they acted before. In her role as Shadow Broker, she had reached out and offered them guidance. Eclipse engineers had joined with the other corps to help with the Mass Relay repair project, and the other two were helping the Alliance and others who were hunting down Collector stragglers across the system. The surviving Collectors had not, apparently, been included in the Reapers’ network when Shepard briefly took control. Their numbers were apparently vanishingly small, but everyone was inclined to be thorough. She was helping the Blue Suns boss negotiate with Hackett’s officers for resource allocations to one of the Martian moons.

In another pair of tabs, she was organising the gathering of spare eezo for use in the repair project. With a diminished chain of command, the Asari contingent of Sol’s population had started treating Liara as the unofficial liaison to the Alliance. It was extra work, but it gave Liara the political favours she needed to call for their eezo reserves. Admiral Koris finally got back to her, and she opened the tab. He apologized for the lateness of his reply, thanked her for her assistance with a diplomatic issue she had been fixing with the Eclipse, and mentioned he had just been on call with the Primarch regarding crop distribution. It was odd to think that Garrus was doing this sort of thing now too. She could almost hear his two-tone sigh of frustration.

She was, deep down, worried about him. She tried to ignore it, let him deal with it on his own. It wasn’t strictly her business, but she hated to see him so stressed out. And it wasn’t just the work. That, he had the professionalism and support to survive, even excel at. Something else was weighing on him. It had sat subtly on his expression since the battle, but it had gotten worse in the last week or so, when James had come back aboard to stay a while before he joined a Collector squad.

Was he jealous? Shepard had always been a bit of a casual flirt, and James was one of the biggest subjects of that. She’d even made a few comments to Liara well after they broke up. But no, Garrus was more mature than that. He used to joke about it with James, there had been no hard feelings. Liara opened another tab, searched whether or not turians had some kind of possessive instinct that developed with regular mates. Nothing, or at least nothing more than most other species. Even Salarians got jealous.

_ Focus. _

Her STG contact had gotten back to her, providing precise numbers on eezo they could spare and an update on the availability of their mechanics and engineers. She blessed the STG’s practicality. Such a short lifespan didn’t let them waste time, she supposed. Made for less political maneuvering once things got desperate enough. At least, as long as it didn’t involve the Krogan. She typed out a reply, and sent it. The last tab was a personal conversation, speaking to Tali. She was out with the Flotilla helping with Geth integration business. But it was night on her ship, and right now they were gossiping. Liara was busy, but she didn’t want to be rude. Tali made a comment about two romantically involved captains she was working with who were on the verge of breaking up over a disagreement about Geth being downloaded into quarian suits. Something dismissive and sarcastic. Liara got distracted halfway through the short message.

Was the thing with Garrus and Shepard  _ that _ serious? Was there a problem that she didn’t know about? She was worried for her friends, of course, but a cold part of her also started examining the potential problems of an emotionally compromised primarch. But no, that didn’t seem right. Garrus wasn’t angry, he wasn’t in the sort of state where he needed to do something. He looked almost lost, confused. The jealousy theory didn’t really fit. There weren’t any lingering glares at his competition, no masculine posturing in front of Shepard. In fact, he seemed to clear up whenever Shepard was around. He just sat, eyebrows pressed together, when he thought nobody was looking. His gaze lingered sadly on Shepard, sometimes, but there was love behind it too. Something was bothering him, but he wasn’t blaming anyone.

An alert chimed gently as the Geth Consensus delivered its report. For all their advancements, they hadn’t yet mastered organic summarization. Their email, when she opened it, was a dense wall of text - filled, she was sure, with every piece of information she needed, but without prioritization or emphasis. This would take some time.

_ Focus _ , she reminded herself.

  
  


As it turned out, she’d been a little off about Shepard noticing her exhaustion. It was only two days later when the commander showed up, sealed drinks from the lounge tucked into the spacious pockets of her hoodie.

She’d strode in, asking Glyph to close down, and while Liara tried to object, she closed the computer at her desk and took Liara’s hand, pulling her towards the bed. Liara’s shoulders tensed at the hint of intimacy, thinking of Garrus, and relaxed again as Shepard simply sat, crossed her legs under her, and offered Liara a drink.

“Shepard, really,” Liara said, trying to back away towards her workstation.

“Liara,” Shepard said, the insistent tone anchoring her in place.

“I shouldn’t.” Liara said. The excuse was feeble, and Shepard smirked.

“You don’t have to drink, Liara, but you do need to sit down, at least.”

Liara stuttered, closed her mouth, and sat.

Inside two hours, Liara almost remembered what relaxation was actually like. It was liberating. She laughed several times, tears streaming down her face. Every time Liara’s conversation meandered towards work, Shepard interrupted with a pressing question about something unimportant and fun.

“Wait,” she said at one point, “Do you even know if Javik has a, y’know, a thing?”  
Liara blushed at the question, but her suppressed laugh gave her away.

“Shit, you’ve seen it?” Shepard asked.

“No,” Liara said, waving a hand, leaning back on the bed, “But the protheans, they used to have a fertility god. This was, I don’t know, a thousand years before Javik was born, probably? But anyway, phallic symbology isn’t unique to humans.”

“So tell me what it looks like.”

“Don’t do this to me, Shepard.”

Shepard poked Liara’s waist, right where she knew it tickled, and Liara glared daggers at her. Ashamed of herself, she opened her omni-tool, searched her gallery of her old dig site photos, and sent the right one to Shepard.

“Damn.” Shepard said, a moment after the notification beep.

“Indeed.”

“Would that…? Oh. Oh nice.”

“I agree.” Liara was blushing more than she had in years.

“I really think you should ask him. Before I do.”

Liara swung a weak, chastising slap at her. She laughed, closing her omni-tool. Shepard leaned back on her elbow, wincing slightly as her weight settled on it.

“How’s your arm?”

“Annoying. Mostly fine, but then I get these random spikes of pain. Spasms, too. Chakwas thinks it might be one of my implants that got damaged, but the scans aren’t showing anything clear. How’s the leg?”

Liara lifted it, watching how the still-shiny printed plastic casing caught the light of the room, “It’s been fine. I don’t even need the cane any more, and this is only a temporary basic one.”

“Nice.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining you in the field anytime soon, however.”

Shepard made a sort of noncommittal _hmm_ noise.

“Is there something wrong?” Liara asked.

“I just wish I could get on one of those Collector clean-up teams. I wanna make sure I finish the job, y’know?”

“Understandable.”

“Can’t with the arm, though. That and…”

“Is there something else?”

Shepard shook her head, “I’m clumsy. Little things. I lose my balance, I bump into stuff sometimes. Nothing serious, but it’s like my body’s on a delay sometimes. I move a half-second after I mean to. Miranda’s going over data that Chakwas has been sending, but they can’t figure it out.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It’s just frustrating. I’ve been on the front lines for this entire damn war. I wanna at least see it to the end, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be active duty again at this rate.”

“You deserve rest, Shepard.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not a soldier. And,” Shepard wagged a finger, “You deserve rest too.”

“If you insist.”

“I do. Speaking of which,” she threw back the last dregs of the drink she’d been sipping for the last hour, “Enough serious talk. We’ve gotta figure out how you’re gonna ask Javik out.”

“I suppose you’ve done the impossible before.”

“Exactly.” Shepard smiled.


	5. Reflection

_A week later..._

"You're getting sloppy, Lola."

Shepard wouldn't admit it, but Vega was right. She hissed in frustration as she let herself down from the pull-up bar.

"How'd I do?"

"Fifty-six. You're still good, don't get me wrong, just~"

"My form was crap." Shepard spat. She rubbed her bad arm, following a pattern of massages that Chakwas' lectures had driven into her muscle memory.

She knew she shouldn't blame herself. She was still recovering from injuries nobody even fully understood. But she felt weak, like she couldn't affect anything. It was like when she had to leave Earth after the invasion, leave Anderson behind.

As if reading her thoughts, James tapped her on the shoulder, "C'mon, Lola, lets dance."

Shepard's gut flared in resentment. She saw the reversal, the repayment he was offering. Catharsis. She felt like he was condescending to her. After all, she was the one who helped people. She didn't want to burden other people with helping her, and the Crucible had rendered her a burden to the whole crew. Even Liara had spotted her arm when she was trying to calm her down.

Shepard looked up at James and felt ashamed of her resentment. His face was carefully neutral, concern hidden behind a wall of machismo. He wasn't trying to cut down her pride, he was just trying to help.

"Sure," she said, standing and stepping towards the middle of the cargo bay. Cortez wasn't around, and Shepard idly wondered what he was up to. James smiled, and settled into a fighting stance. Feet wide, hands up in a loose guard. Shepard matched him, and let him swing the first punch.

It was relieving how naturally her body fell back into the rhythm of the exercise. Sparring wasn't a real fight, of course. It wasn't about winning. It was about understanding, both yourself and your opponent. All the same, James had a competitive streak.

As reflex drove her good arm to make smooth deflections of his opening jabs, she saw his demeanor shift, biceps tensing as he pushed her a little harder. He was testing what she was up for. Appreciation for the concern and frustration for the pity warred in the back of her mind. A small, sharp jolt of pain ran through her as she was forced to deflect with her bad arm.

"So tell me Lola," he began, deflecting her probing jabs easily, "How're things between you and Scars?"

He rushed in with a three-hit combo and she fell back. Her back foot missed its mark on the decking and she lost her balance for a half-second.

"Garrus and I are fine," she said, hesitating, "Primarch duties suck, but that's politics."

"You sound pretty unsure there Lola" he grinned like he did when he was teasing, "We gonna finally see what we're like without him in the way?"

She blocked the next hook, but it was a bad block. The force of the blow resonated through the bones around her shoulder.

" _No_ ," she insisted, but he was kind of right. Garrus had been away on duty, sure, but he was also a little distant when he was on the Normandy. She'd been dismissing it as him being distracted, but he always danced around it whenever she asked what was wrong, "He's just busy. And meanwhile I'm sitting around here doing nothing."

"Oh, you getting lazy in your old age, Commander?" He spread his hands, grinning.

It was bait. Worse than that, it was obvious bait, but she took it without thinking. She pressed forward, loose fists and elbows driving Vega back, keeping him defensive. He wasn't breaking a sweat, and he didn't have to.

"I'm _stuck_ here," she said, using blows as punctuation, "doing nothing useful while everyone else is getting us out of the fucking mess _I_ caused," James's brows were furrowed now as he focused on his defence. Shepard pressed harder, faster, the pace quickening her words.

"Liara's running half the relay project, Garrus is running a _government_ , everyone is trying to help fix me and I can't even get anything more than a polite refusal when I ask Hackett what I can do. For months I've just been sitting on my ass, I can't even get up to fight a few _fucking_ -"

Before she registered any movement, James's fist was millimeters from the bridge of her nose. The rush of air that followed it stung her eyes, and a single finger snapped out, giving her a gentle flick on her cheek.

She flinched, head rocking back and back arching to avoid the punch far too late, but it was all a delayed reflex. Her back foot failed her again, and she felt its ankle turn unpleasantly before she lost her balance and collapsed in a painful heap on the hangar floor. 

Buzzing pain ran through her bad arm.

Her breath shuddered slightly as she tried to get it under control. She hadn’t realized how quickly she was breathing. She was practically hyperventilating. Tears stung at the edges of her eyes.

" _Shit._ " she said through gritted teeth, ashamed by how her voice broke. She avoided looking at James as the sound of his footsteps came closer.

"Getting aggressive before you're ready gets you killed, Lola." he said.

The leather of his boots creaked slightly as he bent down into a crouch.

"It's okay to be off duty, Commander. You carried the whole damn Galaxy the last few years. You can't hunt down the last handful of collectors, so what?"

"I feel useless." Shepard said after a moment.

"I get it, but so did everyone on Earth when you were going up there. You know how I felt when we first left. You saved everyone, Commander. Sure, the guys who made the Crucible deserve some credit, but up there? That was all you. Only reason they haven't pinned a medal on you is probably they have to invent a new one."

Shepard pushed herself up on her elbows, and finally looked at Vega again. His expression was calm, almost stoic. There was no judgement in his eyes. No pity. Shepard sighed.

"I just wish I could do something."

James offered a hand, and she took it, and he dragged her to her feet. He looked at her.

"Maybe you can't fight, or command, right now, Lola, but that doesn't mean you can't do anything. Visit some survivors, check in on people. Hell, when's the last time you and Scars went on an actual date?"

"It was on the Citadel."

"Well, that seems like a good start."

Shepard nodded, considering for a moment. "Thanks, James."

"Anytime." he said, and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

__  
  


_Two days later..._

The smoke that had choked Earth’s atmosphere for nearly a year was starting to dissipate. By some fluke or Shepard’s subconscious design, no Reaper corpses had fallen in major population centres, and most fell into the oceans of the planet. Even knowing this, it was surprising to hear the faint calls of seagulls on the wind.

Shepard and Garrus were walking down a coastal road away from the coastal drydock they’d landed the Normandy in, looking out over the old Irish Sea, taking in the salty smell of the breeze. It made her feel like an olden-days sailor, and she smiled as she nudged Garrus’ shoulder with her head. He looked down at her, and then out at the view. They stopped for a while.

The sea glittered with the bright reflection of the evening sun behind them, the gently rippling water only interrupted by the colossal legs of a Reaper wreckage, sticking crookedly out from the water far from shore, like ancient, immovable ruins.

“I’m kinda worried I put a bunch of radioactive wreckages all over the galaxy.” Shepard said.

Garrus chuckled low in his throat, “No, we had some people running tests on that, Salarians mostly. Whatever you and the Crucible did to them, they’re safe. No indoctrination, either, from what we can tell.”

Shepard squeezed his arm tighter, then let go and made her way off the road, down the hill towards the shore. Garrus followed after her, and sat down beside her when she found a tiny cliff to sit on the edge of. She grabbed his hand as they watched the sun droop lower and lower in the sky. It was peaceful. Shepard could get used to it, even if the back of her mind was trying to remind her of all the work that still needed done.

“Shepard, I wanted to ask you something.” Garrus said. He sounded nervous.

“What’s up?”

“Well, um. I wanted to talk about us.”

Shepard’s heart skipped a panicked beat, and she straightened up. She glanced at him. He was avoiding eye contact, eyes locked on the wreckage in the water.

“What kind of talk?” She asked.

“I uh... Spirits, this is uncomfortable, I wanted to ask you how far you want to, uh, take this.”

Shepard felt her jaw tense as she held in her knee-jerk reaction and let him speak. She just gently inclined her head to show she was still listening.

“It’s just… look, Shepard, the vids can’t tell me everything, and there’s a lot to consider. We were under a lot of stress for the past few months. Hell, we still are, but it’s a lot less likely we’re gonna die young. We said a lot of stuff, expecting the end, you know?”

Shepard opened her mouth to speak, but her lips were dry, her breath shaky. Instead of a full sentence she just prompted, “Such as?”

“Like uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “The kids thing, I guess, sticks out. Retirement plans.”

Shepard found her voice, “You’re having second thoughts?”

“Well it’s just-” he stopped abruptly, eyebrows dropping low, mouth frozen mid-word. Then he looked at her, finally meeting her eyes. She was embarrassed by the tears starting to drip at their edges.

“Wh- no?” He said, confused, “No, not at all-”

“You  _ asshole _ .” she said, punching him lightly on the arm. He probably didn’t even feel it through the carapace, “You had me scared.”

“Wait why were you-?”

“I thought you were gonna break up with me!”

“Spirits, no, Shepard. I love you.”

“I love you too, so why were you saying all that stuff about reconsidering?”

“Oh I’m not reconsidering, but, you know, I don’t know everything about how humans would react to this change. The vids don’t really cover narrowly-avoided extinction. I wanted to give you the option to leave.”

“Why would I leave?”

“I-” Garrus stuttered, and wrapped her in a hug, “I don’t know, but I didn’t want you to feel trapped by what we said before.”

Shepard took a deep breath, calming down from the surge of adrenaline. She leaned into the hug, forehead resting against Garrus’ mandibles.

“I meant what I said, Garrus. I’m a one-turian kind of woman. Don’t get paranoid on me now.”

“Last time, I promise.”

She looked up at him, gently kissed his chin.

“So um.” He said, “Just to confirm, I uh, I like the idea of having kids with you, Shepard. I mean, I know we can’t do it the old fashioned way, but-”

“I’d love that.” Shepard said.

Garrus stopped his nervous ramble, and just smiled. He leaned in closer, and they softly kissed.

“And, Garrus?”

“Yes, Shepard?”

“I don’t know how turians usually do this, but-” She stood up, and dropped gracelessly to one knee in front of him, and took one of his hands in two of her own. Shepard hesitated a moment, and watched Garrus’ reaction. His mandibles flared outward in a way that showed he was excited. He knew what this was. She wondered, for a half-second, if she was being reckless. But no, she'd made her decision on this a long time ago. This was a formality. And, after all, she had to do _something_ important.

“Primarch Garrus Vakarian.”

“Oh, Spirits, don’t call me-” he said, an incredulous chuckle in his voice.

She laughed, and shushed him by holding a finger to her lips.

“Garrus Vakarian,” she started again, “Will you marry me?”

He scooped her up in a hug that was tight and hard against his chest, but she felt comforted and warm all the same as she wrapped her legs around his waist, hands around his neck as they kissed and he spun them around. 

Her feet came to rest on the ground again, and he looked deeply into her eyes.

“Yes, Shepard." he said, breathless, his subvocals taking on that higher pitch that showed his happiness, "Of _course_."


End file.
